Living With Our Consequences
by NekoMegami-chan
Summary: An intimate conversation between close friends on a tragic anniversity turns violent, and those who survive must live with the consequences. Chp.7 has arrived!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki and I'm sure as hell not making any money off any of my storiess. Though if you'd like to buy this one, I've also got a really nice bridge I can make you a deal on. 

Warnings: angst, some language, and some yaoi (if you squint, that is).

Living With Our Consequences

By Nekomegamichan

Part 1

A cold, overcast November day in Tougenkyo gave way to a gray, rainy evening. Usually sundown would find Sha Gojyo, freshly washed and dressed, strolling into town with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face. But on rainy nights, he stayed home. He hadn't used to. Not long ago he had headed out to drink, gamble, and get laid in nearly any weather – and then a certain green eyed youkai had come into his life.

So as the first fat drops fell from the sky, Gojyo lounged at the kitchen table, his slippered feet propped up on the seat Goku occupied whenever the monkey and his monk came to visit. A game of solitaire, which Gojyo highly suspected he would loose (that was, if he chose not to cheat), was laid out in front of him. Tossing down a three of hearts, Gojyo delved into the pocket of his charcoal-gray sweatpants and pulled out his lighter. The butane was running low and it took him a few tries to light his cigarette. Taking the first puff, he plucked at the hem of his white tee-shirt, fingers running over an old soy sauce stain – the reason this shirt had been retired to the status of pajama top. His awkward-length hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, feathery red bangs escaping the elastic band and getting in his eyes. It was annoying, but so far he had been unwilling to cut it all off again. Gojyo insisted it was vanity to anyone who asked, and kept his real thoughts on his hairstyle to himself.

The teapot on the stove began to shriek, and Gojyo hastily balanced his cigarette on the edge of a battered ashtray. "Damn!" he mumbled, nearly overturning the chair in his haste to get up. He turned off the heat and set the pot aside to cool a bit while he got the cups and tea ready.

On the other side of the little house, Hakkai emerged from the bathroom and neatly deposited his damp towel in the hamper. Rain was pelting the windows now, and drumming noisily on the roof. Hakkai's good eye softened, slightly unfocused as he stared out at the misty downpour illuminated by the feeble porch light. Gojyo turned to flash him a sympathetic smile and held up a steaming mug of Hakkai's favorite tea, "Want some?"

Gratefully, the world-wary brunette sank down into the chair opposite the one Gojyo had just vacated, and accepted the hot drink. "Thank you," he said quietly, the edges of his lips turning up only slightly, as if his usual cheerful expression was simply too much effort tonight.

Gojyo understood, and resumed his seat, setting his own drink down by the ashtray and picking up his half-gone cigarette. Deft hands scooped up the cards and shuffled them, dealing a hand of poker for each of them. "Hopefully it will be clear tomorrow."

It rained for the next two days.

**x x x**

It was nearing midnight. Outside the monastery walls, the wind howled like an angry pack of youkai, and the overhanging branches of trees clawed at the roof with bony fingers.

Sanzo sat on the wide windowsill in his room, his back to the storm. A book, written in Komyou Sanzo's impeccable handwriting, lay cradled on his lap. Sanzo silently ruminated over his dead master's wisdom and subtle, wry humor.

He didn't realize he'd managed to doze off until a knock on his door startled him awake. "Sanzo-sama!"

"Go away, Dougan," Sanzo snapped irritably. It was rare enough that he was able to sleep on a night like this, without idiot, novice monks annoying the hell out of him. The boy's irrational worship made Sanzo's trigger finger itch.

"But Sanzo-sama, the Sanbutshin have ordered your presence immediately."

Sanzo rose, closing the book and carefully replacing it on the shelf. "Did they say what they wanted?" he asked, settling the Maten scripture over his shoulders.

"No, Master."

Sanzo knew it didn't really matter. The floating heads never summoned him if there was good news. He glanced in the mirror, quickly arranging his formal headdress. Stepping into a pair of sandals, Sanzo emerged from his room. Dougan looked up at him through wire-rim glasses, smiling in a way that clearly and pathetically expressed the boy's devotion.

"I can get to the audience chamber on my own," Sanzo said, prompting the youth to leave.

"O-of course, Sanzo-sama," Dougan bowed humbly from the waist as Sanzo brushed by him.

**x x x**

A thick mist lay over the ground, and the incessent sound of the rain rattled on. Gojyo awoke in the small hours of the morning on the second day of the storm with an uneasy feeling. Something was wrong. He sat up and let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Hakkai's neatly made bed was empty. The old fear of being left gnawed at the back of his mind.

Dragging himself out from beneat the warm layers of blankets, Gojyo winced as his bare feet made contact with the cold floorboards. After a few moments of fumbling in the dark with a box of matches, Gojyo was able to light the lamp. Golden light pooled on the floor and valiantly pushed back the night for a few feet in each direction. The electricity rarely worked during storms.

Slowly, Gojyo eased over to where Hakkai sat in front of the rain-streaked window. Hakkai's head was in his hands, his shoulders bowed and trembling as he tried to swallow his bitter grief.

Gojyo set the lamp aside and knelt down on the rug at Hakkai's feet. His gut was doing an amazing job of twisting itself into knots and Gojyo didn't like feeling so helpless in the face of his friend's pain. He lifted his left hand, intending to offer comfort but stopped, unsure how the touch would be received.

Hakkai heard Gojyo approach and get down on his knees. The redhead's _chi_ was visible to his mind's eye, and it wavered, reflecting Gojyo's discomfort and uncertainty. Hakkai forced himself to take several deep, steadying breaths and wiped his eyes. "I'm okay now," he said.

"Liar," Gojyo sighed, finally letting his hand rest on Hakkai's forearm. He didn't have to ask:_ you're thinking of her, aren't you?_ The question hung heavily between them.

"It's been a year today," Hakkai replied, trying to ignore the phantom ache of the scar on his belly.

Gojyo mentally smacked himself. "Shit, Hakkai. I'm sorry. I should have remembered…"

Hakkai managed a weak smile, touched by Gojyo's concern. "Don't be. There's nothing you can do, just go back to bed."

"I can be a listening ear," Gojyo paused, rubbing Hakkai's arm in slow, soothing strokes. "You're not alone, you know."

Hakkai sighed, and to Gojyo's amazement, let what was left of his emotional walls come crashing down. The cutting rain had reopened the festering wound in his soul, and Hakkai needed to purge it before it killed him. Looking out the window he said, "I miss her Gojyo. I miss her sweet, gentle smile, and her warm, dark eyes. On my good days, I remember the way she looked when she stood in front of our house at sunset. I used to love the way her dress would blow around her ankles in the breeze – she'd always be there to greet me when I came home from work. I didn't even mind it when she hid my cigarettes… "

Gojyo's eyes snapped up. "No way! You used to smoke?" he laughed, "Somehow, I have a hard time imagining that."

"It's true. Really," Hakkai said. "I used to be quite the rebel."

"Yeah, right."

The tenuous, companionable atmosphere was suddenly broken as the wind picked up, moaning through every tiny crack in the walls, causing the lamp to flicker. A fresh downpour, mixed with hail to bombard the little house.

Hakkai's melancholy returned, and Gojyo wordlessly encouraged him to continue. _C'mon Hakkai, let it all out. You'll feel better._

Lost in his memories, Hakkai stared blankly out the window. Gone were the bright, sweet days of their tragically brief life together. He could almost feel Kannan's fingertips brushing along his knuckles as she took his knife... "When it rains, I feel like I'm dying inside," Hakkai whispered. "Sometimes I want to finish what the Centipede clan couldn't and join Kannan in the freedom and peace of death." His mouth quirked up in a hollow smile, "I'm no expert on the afterlife, if there is one. Sanzo probably knows, though if I asked, I expect he'd simply shoot me in the head and tell me to find out for myself," Hakkai turned back to look at Gojyo. The hanyo's crimson eyes had darkened to the color of wine, and he stared pensively at the lamp on the floor beside him. Hakkai absently stroked Gojyo's short hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm scaring you, aren't I?"

Gojyo let his hand slide down Hakkai's arm to squeeze his friend's hand in reassurance. Sorrow and sympathy for Hakkai, and a strange, cold anger warred in him.

"If I had that night to do all over again, I wouldn't do anything different." Hakkai found the confessions were coming more easily. "I'm selfish, you know; terribly selfish. I slaughtered an entire clan of youkai for the woman I loved. And I can say in all honesty that if it had been humans, my actions would have been the same." He rubbed his forehead in a weary gesture. "If only Kannan had lived…"

He'd known the details of Hakkai's great sin even before he'd known his name, but their conversation was giving Gojyo a whole new understanding. "You make it sound like she was killed, like she didn't have a choice," Gojyo's voice was rough with emotion.

Hakkai pondered for a moment. "She didn't – not really. What they'd done to her, it was more than she could bear to face."

"I think Kannan was the selfish one," Gojyo blurted out.

Hakkai stiffened, snatching his hand away as if Gojyo's had burned him. "Go back to bed, Gojyo," it was a command, not a suggestion. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"I don't?" He tugged on his short red hair, his temper suddenly boiling over. "Hakkai, that baby would've been a half-breed, just like me. The only difference between us is that my mom didn't try to kill me until I was eleven. Kannan finished the job before she even gave the kid, or herself, _or you_ a chance."

Gojyo regretted the words as soon as they'd passed his lips. He realized he'd cut Hakkai deeply, but he also knew that he'd spoken the truth.

The phosphorescent green glow of Hakkai's _chi_ shimmered around him. He had gone absolutely rigid. He had only just begun to discover the extent of his youkai powers, and his control over them was still limited.

Gojyo felt his heart leap into his throat and he scrambled to his feet, instincts screaming for him to get while the getting was good. But he stood as if frozen, torn by guilt.

And then Hakkai went berserk.

A feral expression distorted his usually docile façade as Hakkai exploded into motion. Gojyo gasped, struggling as a vice-like grip closed around his throat. He was viciously slammed into the window behind him. The thick glass crunched beneath his head and Gojyo's vision went black, but for the bright red fireworks bursting across the backs of his eyelids. For a short eternity, Gojyo teetered between consciousness and oblivion, but the instinct of self-preservation tipped the scale.

Gojyo blinked, his head swimming in a way that made him nauseous. Hakkai's infuriated face came into focus mere inches from his, but the man behind the green eyes was months and miles away. The tiny metal cuffs on Hakkai's right ear shone an ominous, ghostly white. Panicking, Gojyo clawed at the hand around his neck. He kicked and twisted, trying to shake loose from the crushing grasp. "Hakkai!" he choked. His only answer was the well-aimed fist that connected with his scarred cheek.

Hakkai was so angry he couldn't think. Familiar, horrifying images flooded his brain as he pummeled Gojyo. Only it wasn't Gojyo anymore, but a physical manifestation of his sins, his pain, his loss. The object of his wrath was just a nameless, faceless _thing_ with eyes and hair like blood. All he could see was blood. It coated his hands, and filled his nostrils with the reek of life and death.

Gojyo was beginning to pass out, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to draw enough breath to fill his starving lungs. Old lessons, well-learned, had quickly overridden the natural urge to defend himself. He'd stopped fighting after the first few punches, though he continued to pry frantically at the hand around his neck. "Ha-hakkai...Stop, dammit! Please," Gojyo gasped, loosing his battle with consciousness.

The next blow went wide, Hakkai's fist slamming into the wall at the whispered sound of his name; his second-chance name, the one the Sanbutshin had given him last year after…after…. Hakkai shook his head, unwilling to see and yet unable to resist the memory of Kannan's broken smile as her blood washed the floor. He was shaking so hard that the limp form he held began to rattle against the wall.

His right ear burned like fire and he reached up to touch the limiters, only to find them cool. Frustrated, Hakkai recoiled, holding his head. The body he'd been holding dropped to the floor, an unmoving tangle of limbs.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Or rather, the author's shamelessness. Please take the time to review this fic and check out my others on I've taken a yearlong hiatus from writing due to work and college, but I recently realized that I get a bit neurotic if I don't have a creative outlet. However, I'm worried that my skills have gone to pot and I'd like some feedback on what readers like in my writing, and what needs some work.

Spoiler Warning: Even though I mentioned him in the last chapter, Dougan has a bigger part in this chapter, so I figured I'd better list his existence as a spoiler for the Saiyuki: Requiem movie. Sorry I didn't do it before, but his appearance in this fic doesn't really do anything to give away the movie plot…ok, I'll shut up about him now.

Living with Our Consequences 

Part 2

Despite what Sanzo and Gojyo often said, Goku knew he wasn't stupid. At least, he wasn't stupid enough to get on Sanzo's nerves when it rained.

The monks who usually ran Sanzo's errands and brought his tea shied away from the high priest's wing of the monastery, wary of enchanted bullets and words that cut like knives. So it was up to Goku to occasionally deliver tea, booze and meals to Sanzo's room, and remove the cold, uneaten food a few hours later. Once in awhile, Goku would hazard to ask Sanzo if he was alright, or if he needed anything. If he was lucky, Sanzo said nothing, or else gave a noncommittal grunt. If Goku was unlucky, or pushed to far, his only reward was to be on the receiving end of Sanzo's wrath.

But Goku had learned to hate storms for reasons of his own. They were powerful in a way he couldn't fight and they took his sun away from him, left him feeling cold and alone. And so, still secure in the thought that he wasn't stupid, Goku climbed out of bed and went down the hall to stand in front of Sanzo's door. His sensitive nose picked up the smells of old parchment and floor wax– Dougan had been here, and recently. Goku felt the hair on the back of his next stand up, something bothered him about Sanzo's clerk. There was something wrong with the other teen, though it wasn't something Goku could make sense of, even to himself. Pushing the thought away, he pressed his ear to the door.

'I won't go in,' he thought. 'I only want to make sure he's okay.'

When he didn't hear anything, Goku held his breath, his preternatural ears straining to catch the sound of robes rustling, or the soft snore Sanzo sometimes made when he fell asleep a little drunk. Still nothing. Goku took a deep breath and sat back on his heels – only to land flat on his ass when he saw the shadow creeping over him.

"Dougan! What are you doing here?" Goku shouted all thoughts of not disturbing Sanzo forgotten in his surprise. Dougan had a bad habit of showing up unexpectedly, and Goku hadn't even smelled the other teen come up because his scent had already been fresh.

"What are you doing, spying on Sanzo-sama?" the young monk retorted, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "What with all the sneaking around you do and all the trouble you make, I'm curious as to why his holiness even keeps you around. Especially when he has someone as loyal as I am to serve him."

Having heard similar speeches whenever he and Dougan crossed ways, Goku rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up! I know you were here just a little while ago, and now Sanzo's gone. Tell me where he went."

Seeing that he had nothing to gain by lying, Dougan shrugged, "He has gone to stand before the Sanbutushin, where none but the holiest can follow." He couldn't resist the jibe at Goku's demon heritage.

Goku ignored the slight and sighed, his worry melting away. It just meant that they had a mission coming up. He brightened, anticipating the opportunity to leave the monastery and the chance to kick a little bad-guy butt. Turning his back on the acolyte, Goku headed back towards his own room. "Thanks for the info. G'night," he said, with a patronizing little wave over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back at the other youth standing, statuesque, in front of Sanzo's door.

**x x x**

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and a high wind had temporarily blown the clouds aside to reveal the waning moon. Stepping carefully around the puddles that gathered between the worn paving stones, Sanzo followed the ancient path up the hill.

He could hear the high, insistent ringing of the golden bell the gods used to summon him. The paper wards which protected the temple fluttered as he passed. Sanzo stubbornly refused to hurry, and took the time to climb the one thousand stairs to the temple doors to prepare himself for the meeting. He resented not having been given the time for a purification ritual. Not that he actually believed that a hot bath and some structured breathing exercises could wash his stained soul clean – but the ritual was relaxing and went a long way towards strengthening his patience.

The bell finally stopped ringing when Sanzo's feet touched the landing in front of the richly carved, red lacquered double doors of the audience chamber. A quick glance at the enchanted scroll on the right-hand door said only "Urgent" in an intricate script, where it would usually give him at least some indication of the reason for his visit.

Sanzo removed his sandals and placed them in the cabinet to his left, followed by his reading glasses, gun, paper fan, and most reluctantly, his lighter and cigarettes. The latter he tucked well into the back, wanting to protect the brand new pack from the humidity. Finally, he folded his umbrella and propped it up in a corner. Taking a few deep breaths he willed his muscles to relax and began whispering a rhythmic mantra. His mind cleared, leaving him calm and emotionless, slowing his heart rate. He knocked and the doors swung inward, and Sanzo stepped into the soft darkness of the temple's interior. Moving to the center of the room, he knelt, head bowed in an outward show of humble submission.

"_Welcome, Genjo Sanzo_," said the three, giant floating heads in unison, "_Nice of you to finally join us_."

**x x x**

An animalistic wail rent the silence that had fallen over the little house, a noise that was half pained moan, and half frustrated growl. The limiters burned his ear like tiny branding irons, forcefully suppressing his youryoku, making his whole body ache as the conflicting forces warred for dominance. Raw power pulsed from him in waves, making the air around him ripple like hot air over desert sand.

Hakkai took a stumbling step backwards, away from the unmoving form crumpled on the floor at his feet. To his surprise, the limiters' intensity lessened. Hakkai scrambled back a few more steps, relieved to find that the further he got from the body, the less the limiters struggled against him. His heel knocked over the lamp, the small light instantly swallowed up by the spilled wax so that the room's only illumination came from the cuffs on his ear.

His thoughts foggy and muddled in the wake of his strange, anger-induced paroxysm, Hakkai could only stare dazedly at his victim; knowing he should be appalled and yet somehow numb to the horror of what he had done.

Then, without awareness of having moved, Hakkai found himself outside, running though icy mud puddles while cold rain lashed his face. His ivory colored sweatshirt was soaked through, and his cotton pants clung to his legs. Water dripped from his hair, obscuring the vision in his good eye. Gradually, he slowed to a jog, and finally stopped as the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds.

**x x x **

It was still dark when Sanzo emerged from the Sanbutushin's temple, exhausted and hungry. The deep state of meditation he'd maintained while in the gods' presence had left him with a nasty headache and in desperate need of a smoke. Still, the pain was preferable to the alternative – which was having them read his most private thoughts as their combined spiritual power roasted his brains. He retrieved his cigarettes, and lighting up, Sanzo took a moment to collect his thoughts.

He took a deep drag and recalled the Three Aspects' words, "_Cho Hakkai has, or soon will, perpetrate an act of violence against his housemate, Sha Gojyo_." Damn the floating heads for their shaky grasp of mortal time; the concepts of yesterday, today, and eternity blended together for them, and it was next to impossible to get a straight answer when it came to the "when" of anything. It was hard to get a straight answer from them, period, Sanzo thought without amusement. But the message was clear, Hakkai had broken the terms of his parole, and once again, it was up to Sanzo to go and get him. He hardly so much as spared a thought for the stupid kappa; Gojyo had likely gotten what he'd deserved.

For some reason Sanzo had come to like Hakkai, or at least, he'd come to like the man's talent for knowing what to say, and when not to say anything at all. He'd even admit, though not readily, a certain measure of respect for Hakkai. But Sanzo had known from the very beginning that the human-turned-youkai had been emotionally unstable. And yet he felt the sting of betrayal, though he could not have articulated the exact source of his irritation, even to himself. When Hakkai had been brought before the Sanbutushin, Sanzo had vouched for Hakkai's character, spoken in the young man's favor for no other reason than gut feeling. As usual, his good deed had come back to bite him in the ass. "I'm going to kill that bastard," he muttered.

Finishing his cigarette, Sanzo wet his fingers and pinched out the butt, stuffing it back in the pack so as not to desecrate the holy ground and needlessly annoy the gods on their own turf. Sanzo stuffed his belongings back into his robe, stepped into his sandals, and opened his umbrella to guard against the heavy rain falling beyond the overhang. Slowly, careful not to slip on the slick stone stairs, Sanzo finally addressed his silent shadow. "How long was I in there this time?"

Following his master, Dougan smiled to himself, pleased to be useful. "Nearly twenty-four hours, Sanzo-sama."

Sanzo's foot hovered a moment in surprise at the answer before smoothly continuing it's decent to the nest stair. Shit. No wonder he was so hungry. Again he cursed the god's sense of time, the meeting had seemed to last no more than an hour. "I'll be leaving in thirty minutes," he announced. "Go get me a bowl of rice and a cup of tea, and have a sack lunch made, enough for Goku and I both."

"May I please come with you, Master?" Dougan asked, careful not to keep his voice steady; Sanzo-sama hated whining. "I can carry whatever you need."

"No, I have Goku for that," Sanzo replied casually, but in a tone that booked no argument.

**x x x**

The storm finally blew itself out sometime during the quiet hours before dawn, leaving the sodden ground frosted white. Gojyo was started awake by the sound of the back door banging shut. "Who's there?" he croaked, his abused throat making his words sound like they came from an old man.

He waited several long moments, but there was no response, and with the sickening way the world was dancing around in his blurred vision, Gojyo didn't even try to look. Instead, he snapped his eyes shut and focused on the feeling of the cold air going in and out of his bruised lungs, pitifully grateful to be breathing at all.

_Nothing ever hurts quite as much as a good beating_, Gojyo thought, moaning quietly. He raised a shaky hand to where it had struck the window. Sticky, cooling blood matted the hair above the wound and dried in a wide line down the back of his neck. Gojyo snatched his fingers away and swallowed back the taste of bile.

Waves of guilt washed over him, pounding relentlessly. How the hell had he gone from comforting Hakkai in his hour of need, to pissing the poor guy off so much that he'd snapped? Self-loathing made Gojyo's skin crawl. This was his life story – his big mouth and so-called good intentions always conspired in him to hurt the people he loved.

He thought again of Kannan's baby, and the useless things he'd said. It was a moot point, the girl and her kid had been dead before he'd even met Hakkai, and by even bringing it up he'd wounded his best friend for no good fucking reason!

"Don't be so hard on yourself," a smooth, unfamiliar voice drawled.

Gojyo bolted upright, only to black out as the head injury caught up with him. He came to a moment later, slumped with his back to the wall.

"Who?" he slurred again, trying to focus on the shape that now occupied Hakkai's chair. He heard fingers snap, and suddenly the electric lamps came on. Blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the harsh artificial light, Gojyo cursed his unknown visitor.

A woman with long, raven hair, creamy skin and wearing a revealing piece of clothing that vaguely resembled a dress, sat regarding him with a bland expression. "Yo." When Gojyo didn't return the greeting, she continued, her sharp eyes scrutinizing him, making him slightly uneasy. "Hmn, he really beat the shit out of you, huh?" To Gojyo's relief she shifted her gaze to study the spider's web pattern of cracks in the window.

"Must be delirious; hallucinating," Gojyo muttered to himself. Where in the hell had this chick come from? Usually he liked pretty little things with sweet faces and soft bodies, girls that were nothing like this diva with her masculine voice and matching ego. If he hadn't been so hurt and tired, Gojyo would have cracked up laughing at the ridiculousness of talking to what was so obviously a figment of his imagination. "Sorry, lady. I don't know what back-alley of my mind you came out of, but you're just not my type. So hurry on home, okay sweetheart?"

It was her turn to laugh then, a deep, throaty sound. "Oh my," she said, when she finally stopped. "People really _don't_ change. In any case, you're not out of your mind. I'm Kanzeon Bosatsu – perhaps you've heard of me?" There was a swagger in her voice that reeked of the confidence of celebrity, though she didn't wait for him to answer, but pressed on with her explanation. "I'm here to make sure you don't up and die before Genjo Sanzo and the others arrive. If you did, it would really shoot my plans for the four of you to hell."

After a few minutes' sluggish thought, Gojyo grasped at the one thing that remotely made sense to him. "If you're really the Merciful Goddess, why not just fix me up?" Provided she was who she said she was, and if he could get her to heal him, Gojyo could go after Hakkai before the man could do anything drastic. Worry for Hakkai gnawed at him and the need to find his friend, to somehow make things right between them, was almost overwhelming. "Hakkai…"

"I could," Kanzeon slowly, the desperate look on the half-breed's scarred face leeching away her usual cool amusement at throwing a wrench into someone else's cogs, "but Hakkai was allowed to go over the edge for a reason. Harder times are coming, and there won't be any room for weakness. Hakkai's sense of self and everyone's ability to work as a reasonably cohesive team will make the difference between success and total failure. You just happen to be the most convenient catalyst to fire up the forge; now all that's left is to temper the steel and let Sanzo sharpen the blade." Her dear nephew's diamond-hard demeanor could give a wet noodle a cutting edge.

Thoroughly confused, Gojyo gave up even trying to understand. It may have been the head wound, but the best he could manage was a frustrated, "What the fuck?"

Kanzeon smiled as if humoring a child or a half-wit. "Don't worry about it; you're not going to remember any of this anyway."

Gojyo pressed a hand to his aching head, "Oh."

x x x

I just want to say a special thanks to DitchGospel for all her helpful reviews of this, and my other stories. I appreciate it.

I've already got the first few pages of the next chapter started, and I'll get that up probably sometime this next week. Thanks for reading and, as always, let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. I've had several major exams lately and I actually had to study gasp! Also, I thought I'd mention that I've been concussed no less than 5 times in the past 8 years, though the last one was nearly 3 years ago now. So my description of Gojyo's head injury is my first-hand experience leaking through lol. Oh – before I forget, I'd like to make sure a few details for the next chapter are as accurate as possible, so can someone who knows the series inside-out please e-mail me so I can pick your brain?

Living With Our Consequences

By Nekomegamichan

Goku was unceremoniously dumped out of bed when Sanzo upended the sheets. Still half asleep, Goku scrambled to his feet, fists at the ready. He blinked in the flickering light of a paper lantern, but a familiar figure quickly came into focus. "Sanzo!" he grinned, his voice too loud for ears that had grown accustomed to the night's quiet. "You're back!"

Sanzo chose to acknowledge Goku's enthusiasm with a simple, "Hn." He picked up a clean shirt from the little closet and tossed it at the monkey's head. "Get dressed, and hurry up. We're going to get a bite to eat and head out. I want to be out the gate by dawn."

Goku pulled off the tank top he slept in and slipped into the shirt Sanzo had thrown him. "Where are we going this time?" he asked, hunting for a reasonably clean pair of pants.

Moving over to the partially open window, Sanzo didn't answer right away. For a moment, the only sounds in the little room were those of the rain on the roof, the soft rustle of Goku searching for a pair of socks, and the metallic click of Sanzo's cheap butane lighter as he started a fresh cigarette. As it was, Sanzo took the same route he usually did. _If you meet the Buddah, kill the Buddah_. Non-attachment was best and mincing words to save the monkey's feelings would only make things harder in the end. "We're going to go get Hakkai. He's done something to that moronic kappa and apparently, the Sanbutushin are taking it personally."

"No way, not Hakkai! He wouldn't do anything to the cockroach. Gojyo's obnoxious, but they're best friends," Goku was tying his bootlaces now.

Sanzo exhaled a trail of white smoke, though he didn't comment. Yesterday he would have agreed with Goku, though not in words, but today was different. "Ready?"

"Yeah, lets go get this sorted out. The floating heads probably just made a mistake or something," Goku stretched and shook like a dog. "Did you mention something about food?"

x x x

Sanzo ate his simple meal in silence, cleaning his gun between bites while Goku shoved food in his mouth with his usual single-minded enthusiasm. It was still several hours before dawn, and Sanzo hadn't slept since the night before, and then, only lightly. His headache had receded to a steady throb behind his eyes with the help of the tea's caffeine and another cigarette.

Having finished, Goku stared down into his empty bowl for a moment, then abruptly broke the silence. "Sanzo?"

"It had better be important," Sanzo replied, deft hands methodically loading the gun.

"If – if Hakkai really did do something to Gojyo…what are we going to do?"

Sanzo clicked the safety on, and put the gun away. That was exactly the question he'd been asking himself for the past hour. The Sanbutushin had made it clear that Hakkai be brought back alive; they wanted him to answer directly for his transgressions. However, they had given him permission to use whatever force was necessary to subdue the human-turned-youkai, so apparently it didn't matter how many pieces Hakkai came back in. And then there was that idiot kappa to think about. The Three Aspects hadn't been able to tell him the extent of what had transpired, so there was no way of knowing if the red-headed pervert was injured, dead, or if he'd suffered no worse than a bloody lip. Sanzo realized that Goku was still staring at him, expectantly awaiting an answer. "I don't know," he said.

Ten minutes later, Sanzo and Goku passed beneath the monastery gates and thirty monks breathed a hearty sigh of relief.

x x x

Hakkai stood on the empty road, watching as the sun slowly mounted the horizon. The light brought little warmth and he shivered in his sodden clothes. His bare feet, stone-bruised and numb, were mired in the frost-encrusted mud.

The sun. Sanzo. Sanzo would come for him now, like he had _then_. _Then_ was something he didn't want to think about. He didn't want to think at all; the detachment was a soothing balm, easing the pain of his sins. He had the strange sensation of not quite being the person he had once been, and not quite being the one he had supposedly become.

Gojyo – he'd killed Gojyo. Why? He'd been angry. Angry because of something Gojyo had said. Something so honest, so true, that it hurt like hell. And then Gojyo hadn't been Gojyo any more. Everything had gone red. Red, that horrible, nauseating color, the hue of his nightmares. Gojyo's color. When he closed his eyes he saw Gojyo, bruised and strangled and dead on the floor at his feet. The sick, twisted part of his mind insisted on adding details he couldn't possibly have seen in the darkened room; was it really only a few hours ago? A trickle of fresh, glistening crimson leaking from the corner of Gojyo's mouth, the twin scars on Gojyo's cheek laid open by his claws…

He sobbed, eyes dry, hugging himself in a useless attempt to ward off the misery and cold. But he couldn't stay here, wallowing in his insanity and self-hate. He knew he was crazy; knew it with the kind of surety that could only come from acceptance. He had to break the ridiculous cycle of his thoughts before he lost it completely, and he forced himself to cling to the one constant. Sanzo was coming, and there was something he had to do. He had to get back to the house and finish the grisly task of laying poor Gojyo to rest, because Sanzo wouldn't wait. Though maybe, if he begged, the priest would chant sutras for Gojyo's soul. Turning, he abandoned the wide, winding road and retraced his steps, cutting through the rain-soaked forest once again.

x x x

Kanzeon's smile widened when she heard the other members of her budding all-star team approaching. They were less than half a kilometer away, but it wouldn't take them long to arrive. Then she could go back to her throne beside the lily pond, order Jiroushin to fetch a carafe of plum wine, and watch the show.

"Ne," she addressed Gojyo, reaching out one bejeweled toe to nudge him in the shoulder. "Your friends will be here any minute. Time to get up."

The taboo child looked up at her, an edge of panic bringing new light to his exhaustion-dulled eyes. "Everyone?" he asked hoarsely. She nodded. "Sanzo. He's gonna come get Hakkai…fuck!"

Gojyo reached up for the windowsill and slowly dragged himself to his feet. The pain in his skull and chest had receded to a manageable ache, though he felt drained and almost fragile with fatigue. He was aware he was trembling all over, and he pressed a hand to his throbbing head, gulping in deep breaths of cold air. It made him cough, bringing tears to his eyes. Shit, he was in bad shape. How the hell was he going to be of any use if he couldn't even pull himself together? Finding new resolve and calling up the strength and stamina that were the result of twenty years of hardship and pain, Gojyo managed to stand up relatively straight and made eye contact with the goddess still watching him from the chair. "Alright," he said.

Kanzeon rose and went to wrap an arm around his waist, supporting him. And then they were circumventing the couch and headed for the door. As she helped Gojyo navigate the furniture, Kanzeon fond herself admiring his spirit and strength of will. It truly was the taisho's stubborn soul in this mortal body, and Kanzeon felt her goals get a little closer.

x x x

It was almost midmorning when Sanzo and Goku finally neared the little clearing where Gojyo's shack stood. It was raining again, lightly, and the saffron rays of the sun broke through the narrow gaps between the clouds to cast strange, indistinct shadows around every rock and tree.

Sanzo grit his teeth and fingered the gun in the waistband of his jeans. The hem of his muddy robes clung to his legs, chilling skin and weighing him down. There was no way he was ever going to forgive either Hakkai or the damn kappa for dragging him out on such a miserable day.

Sanzo stopped and threw out a hand, keeping Goku under the shelter of the trees. "What do you smell?" he asked.

Goku sniffed thoughtfully. "No blood," he said, "Just Hakkai and Gojyo…and something else – I'm not sure what it is. It's kind of like lilies, but its winter so that can't be right. It feels powerful, though. And," he pointed across the clearing at a right angle to where they now stood, "I think Hakkai went that way," he sniffed again, "a few hours ago, at least."

Sanzo only nodded. He hadn't really expected Hakkai to stick around, but he wasn't exactly looking forward to hunting the man down. It could only end messily and Sanzo didn't want to think about the consequences of such a meeting right now. Instead he turned his attention to the familiar aura of a certain meddling bodhisattva. He'd been aware of Kanzeon Bosatsu's presence since they'd left the main road, and it came as no surprise to hear Goku confirm her by her scent.

"Come on, the sooner we can finish this, the better." Breaking through the line of trees and stepping onto the yellowed winter grass of the clearing, Sanzo approached the little house with deliberate steps.

x x x

Gojyo and Kanzeon reached the door just before a forceful knock pounded against the wood; once, twice, impatient. Sanzo's knock.

"Okay kid, you're on your own," Kazeon said with a smirk, disappearing without so much as a puff of smoke and leaving Gojyo groping for the doorpost. The knock was repeated and Gojyo opened the door to see Sanzo glaring up at him. Sanzo's statuesque face was carefully neutral; it was subtly different from his usual apathetic expression, one the monk wore only when he was pissed beyond words – and extremely volatile.

"Where's Hakkai?" Sanzo demanded, growling at Goku as the boy peeked around him and interrupted loudly.

"Wow! Gojyo, you look like shit!" Goku exclaimed. "Did Hakkai really do that?"

Gojyo tilted his head as if his messy, tangled hair was a shield that could protect him from Sanzo's blazing anger and Goku's brass curiosity. He didn't answer.

"Where the hell is he?" Sanzo repeated, tight lipped and trigger finger twitching.

"I don't know," Gojyo said, still not meeting Sanzo's piercing gaze.

Sanzo's drooping amethyst eyes narrowed dangerously beneath the wet mop of his hair, hating the feeling that he'd only gone in one giant, pointless circle over the last year. His tenuous hold on patience was perilously close to the breaking point. "Don't fuck with me Gojyo. I'm not going to ask you again."

Finally looking up, Gojyo caught a flash of movement beneath the trees beyond Sanzo's left shoulder. Hakkai stood there, muddy and disheveled; staring at Gojyo like he was seeing a ghost.

With a casual gesture perfected from years of weaseling out of tough situations, Gojyo shifted so that he was leaning with his right arm stretched above his head along the doorframe. "I told you already – I don't know where he is. He took off last night." While he spoke, he waved the fingers of his raised hand in a shooing motion, wordlessly pleading with Hakkai to leave before Sanzo noticed him. But Sanzo instantly followed his line of sight and in the space of a heartbeat the monk had the barrel of his gun leveled at Hakkai. Goku shouted and Gojyo did the only thing he could think to do, he tackled Sanzo, dragging the priest to the ground.

"Hakkai! Run!" Gojyo shouted; wrestling to keep Sanzo's hands pinned to the grass. The brunet didn't move; it was as if he'd been rooted to the spot. "Run dammit!"

Goku fidgeted, torn between two loyalties. He knew he should be helping Sanzo, but Gojyo wasn't hurting him and even after seeing how beat-up the kappa was, Goku had a hard time believing that kind, patient Hakkai had done it.

Sanzo managed to slip one hand free and knocked Gojyo across the temple. Gojyo collapsed with a groan and Sanzo rolled him off. Sanzo quickly regained his feet, once more bringing the banishing gun to bear on Hakkai, who had closed half the distance between them during the struggle.

"Don't move," Sanzo ordered, seething.

Hakkai stopped and slowly raised his hands. He didn't speak, didn't give an excuse or ask for mercy. Instead, Hakkai remained focused on Gojyo where he lay, curled on one side and holding his head.

"Goku," Sanzo kept his attention and his gun on Hakkai as he spoke. "Drag that idiot inside and get him cleaned up."

Thankful to finally know what was expected of him, Goku nodded, "Alright Sanzo." He went over to Gojyo's side, disconcerted by the strange intensity of Hakkai's gaze on him as he gently hauled the half-conscious kappa into a sitting position. Goku started to pull the larger body over his shoulder, but Gojyo protested, pushing weakly at his back and muttered, "I can walk, monkey."

Hakkai watched as Gojyo gathered his pride around him like a cloak, standing up straight and brushing off Goku's helping hands. But he didn't go back in the house. Instead, Gojyo moved to stand between the barrel of Sanzo's gun and its intended target.

"Sanzo, don't shoot," Gojyo's voice was low and eerily calm. "It was my fault, ok? My fault." Behind him, he heard Hakkai draw in a quick breath. "Hakkai'll play nice," Gojyo cast Hakkai a pleading glance over his shoulder and whispered, "Please."

For one agonizingly long moment, no one moved. The grey skies continued to pour down on them, the rain blurring the edges of their silent tableau. Goku suddenly felt trapped; trapped by the dissention between them and the way that events had spiraled so completely out of control. He might have screamed then, if Sanzo hadn't given an almost imperceptible sigh of defeat when Hakkai nodded his assent.

Sanzo lowered his gun, but didn't put it away. He almost felt cheated. He'd wanted to make just one hole in Hakkai, revenge for all the shit he'd been through. "Fine. Get your sorry asses in the house before I shoot all three of you."

x x x

This isn't quite how I wanted to end this chapter, or even how I'd really wanted this chapter to read, and I'm not sure I'm happy with it. Thoughts/comments anyone?


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Replies for reviewers at the end.

Living with Our Consequences 

By NekoMegamichan

Heaven basked under an eternal spring sun, warming the white buildings and the immaculate sidewalks. Minor gods strolled arm-in-arm through groves of perpetually blooming cherry trees while not-so-minor gods plotted amongst themselves behind closed doors.

Kanzeon Bosatsu materialized in her usual place beside her secluded lily pond. The enchanted water, a window to the mortal world below, was already focused on the tiny corner of Tougenkyo she had just left.

"Ah, Jiroushin, I see you were paying attention," she smiled, seeing the carafe of plum wine and the glass, already poured, beside it. Jiroushin simply bowed and took up his usual place at Kanzeon's elbow as the Goddess of Mercy settled in to watch.

x x x

When everyone was inside, Sanzo closed and locked the door before turning to assess the situation. Gojyo had made it to the bed before collapsing face-first on the mattress; saving him the trouble of hauling the kappa's carcass off the floor. Hakkai had retreated to the far side of the room and stood there dazedly, dripping on the floor. For once, Goku was the only one being even remotely useful. The monkey stood, shifting from foot to foot and waiting for Sanzo to give him some direction.

Sanzo clicked the safety on and returned the banishing gun to its hiding place. "Goku," he said, "Go find wherever Hakkai keeps the bandages and antiseptic."

"Sure thing, Sanzo," Goku set to raiding cupboards. Sanzo knew what to do; and now that he was taking charge again, everything would be okay.

Privately, Sanzo was somewhat less convinced of his ability to handle what had been thrown at him. The only reasonable option was to move forward and attempt to once again pick up after other people's messes. Resolved, Sanzo headed for the bathroom. It was barely larger than a broom closet and there was hardly space enough for a grown man to turn around. Everything was old but clean, the result of Hakkai's meticulous housekeeping. Sanzo opened the rusted, mirrored medicine cabinet and removed the bottles of painkillers, sleeping pills, and hangover remedies he found, along with a package of disposable razors.

Goku looked up from where he was setting out bandages and watched, confused, as Sanzo reemerged from the bathroom carrying an odd assortment of items; dumping them on the table. Before Goku could ask what all the bottles were for, Sanzo had turned to address Hakkai.

"You're a mess." Sanzo knew it was a gross understatement. Hakkai's face was white and he'd yet to stop shivering; judging from the brunet's lost expression, Sanzo highly doubted Hakkai was aware of being cold. "Go take a shower."

Hakkai opened his mouth as if to protest, but either thought better of it or simply couldn't form articulate speech. Instead he shut his mouth and went to the bathroom, though not without a final, almost pleading glance at the unconscious Gojyo.

When the bathroom door had clicked shut, Sanzo rummaged around in Hakkai's dresser, pulling out dry clothes for Goku, Hakkai, and himself. Sanzo quickly changed out of his damp robe, jeans, and leathers and hung them over a chair before slipping on a long sleeved shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. Hakkai was taller than he was, though not by much, and overall the fit was acceptable. Sanzo crossed to where Goku was re-arranging the kappa on the bed and dropped a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt on the nightstand beside a bowl of water. "Change before you finish with him."

Goku did as he was told, the cuffs of the too-long pants pooling around his bare feet and the oversized shirt hanging off his narrow frame. He looked like a child in his father's clothes. "Sanzo, look at this," Goku said, drawing his keeper's attention to the back of Gojyo's head and the blood-matted hair. Running careful fingers over the wound, Goku shifted the hair aside and showed Sanzo the deep, ragged gash and the pinkish bone peeking out from below. "And if you open his eyes, they look funny. I think he needs a doctor."

"Concussion. How fucking convenient," Sanzo growled beneath his breath. This was exactly what he needed. "Do the best you can."

Goku nodded, dipping a clean cloth into the water and sponging at the wound. It began to bleed again, sluggishly, though it didn't do so for long. Goku bandaged Gojyo's head before awkwardly stripping him down to his boxers and drawing the covers up over the redhead's shoulders. "Sanzo…"

"Don't even start with the questions," Rubbing tired eyes, Sanzo realized he'd practically been asleep on his feet. Rousing himself, he went to check on Hakkai. Hakkai was unstable and desperate, and while Sanzo had removed most convenient means of suicide, that didn't mean the man couldn't find another way if he were determined enough. And with as much as he hated it, he knew they had to talk.

Sanzo let himself in without knocking. Steam swirled thickly, and he left the door open to let some of it escape. Hakkai stood with his back to Sanzo, scrubbing, ritualistically soaping his arms and legs. Sanzo didn't say anything. Hakkai would eventually speak; the need to confess and seek penance was ingrained in him.

"How is he?" Hakkai asked, scouring his chest with a rough washcloth.

"He'll live," Sanzo said dryly.

"I thought I'd killed him," Hakkai paused, choking back the madness that tugged at his mind, willing away the stomach-churning images and emotions it brought. "That's why I came back," he said softly, "to bury him."

Sanzo could hear the crushing, debilitating guilt in Hakkai's voice, barely audible over the spray of the shower. If Sanzo had been inclined to pity, he might have offered words of comfort or reassurance. The gods knew Hakkai could use them. But Sanzo did not pity.

When no condemnation came, Hakkai felt strangely disappointed. It would have been easier to endure Sanzo's ire than his silence. "I know why you came," Hakkai said. "And I'll go along without a fight." The unspoken words rang loudly in the tiny bathroom, _I deserve punishment for what I've done. I welcome it. _

"I figured as much," Sanzo replied, then abruptly chanced the subject. "You're not yourself. Or rather, you're only half here."

"You're right, of course. I'm not. I haven't been since last night. It's as if I've been fragmented, torn between who I was and who I'm supposed to be. And now the parts don't fit together anymore, like there's a piece missing. I'm confused and tired and angry and I can't control any of it."

Sanzo didn't like the hysterical edge that had crept into Hakkai's tone. The man was walking along an invisible ledge, and a small shove could send him plummeting over the edge for good. "You've been washing for fifteen minutes straight. Get out."

The simple command came to Hakkai like a lifeline and he grasped at it, reaching for at least some semblance of normalcy. "Ah, so I have," Hakkai rinsed away the last of the soap from his reddened skin and turned off the water, grabbed a towel from the rack. Sanzo slipped back into the body of the house, allowing Hakkai the physical and emotional space to dress.

A glance showed Sanzo that Gojyo was still passed out. Goku had climbed up on the narrow bed, practically on top of the kappa, and was snoring softly. Outside the rain continued, slow and steady. Sanzo was suddenly dying for a smoke. He lit a cigarette and took a few hits, and instantly his nerves settled. He had a headache again, or perhaps it was the same one he'd had since the night before and he'd simply been too busy to notice it for the last few hours. Finding the bottle of aspirin among the pile of things on the table, he took two of the little white pills, swallowing them down dry.

Hakkai emerged from the bathroom, wearing tan cotton slacks and an emerald green sweater. He said nothing, but went to the kitchen and set a pot of water on the stove before pulling a large package of dried ramen noodles from a cupboard.

Sanzo waited for Hakkai to speak again, watching as he dropped cubes of beef bullion into the pot. It didn't escape him that Hakkai carefully avoided the drawer where the knives were kept, walking as far around it as the tiny kitchenette would allow, obviously not trusting himself to be near them.

When nothing seemed forthcoming, what little remained of Sanzo's patience crumbled beneath the weight of his frustration and he snapped, "So what happened between you and the damn cockroach?" Though he hated to acknowledge that it mattered to him, Sanzo wanted to know exactly what had happened to fuck up the only tolerable relationships in his shitty life.

Hakkai didn't reply right away. He wiped his hands on a rag and turned to face the monk. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"The hell it isn't!" Sanzo was vehement but kept his voice low so as not to wake the others. This was going to be a private argument and he didn't want Goku or Gojyo butting in. "You fucked up Hakkai, and now you owe me some answers."

Hakkai seriously considered denying Sanzo the satisfaction of his obedience, the wicked, perverse part of him was self-destructive and it was looking for a fight it could lose. Hakkai realized that he had to take charge of his own mind again and it was now or never. Somehow Sanzo's solid presence and his demanding tones were reaching out to free him from the prison of insanity and all he had to do was submit to Sanzo's authority. Hakkai stirred the pot and began to speak. "Gojyo, for all his brass and carelessness is actually a sensitive and thoughtful person," Hakkai said by way of prefacing his account. "Last night was the anniversary of Kanan's death and with the rain… Around midnight, Gojyo awoke, and noticing my grief, he tried to distract me with conversation. Only, before long, I was confronted with several of the painful truths I've been avoiding for the last year.

"After that, everything is a blur. All I know is that I was so furious it was physically painful. And – for some reason I just needed to make him hurt, too."

"It happened too fast for words. I went for his throat like an animal, slammed him into the window and strangled him, hit him." Hakkai turned to look past Sanzo to where Gojyo lay, bandaged and sleeping with Goku's possessive arm thrown over his chest. The guilt and regret came crashing back as he said, "I almost killed him, just because he cared enough to be honest." Hakkai had always known he was a horrible person. He'd come to terms with it before he'd met Kanan. Though he'd been so sure that her purity had reformed him, he realized now that that had only been wishful thinking. Hakkai fervently wished that Sanzo would serve the gods' justice and shoot him then and there; put him out of his misery in the little kitchen where the blood would be easy to mop up, erasing all traces of him.

But the blow, when it came, was not from a bullet. Faster than his eyes could follow, Sanzo produced the paper fan and slapped Hakkai sharply across the face with it. Automatically, Hakkai raised a hand to his stinging cheek.

"Get over yourself," Sanzo hissed. "You're not the only one with ghosts in your past." Sanzo hadn't slept in nearly three days and he was too tired to continue to mince words with Hakkai. "Now shut up and finish the ramen."

Hakkai obediently returned to his cooking, draining the noodles and dumping the lot in a wok to fry while the broth simmered. He could feel the outline of the paper fan on his cheek still, and he clung to it. As usual, Sanzo was right, and just as predictably the blond monk's wisdom had come coupled with pain. He had to give up on his selfish self-pity and move on. He only hoped that Gojyo would be able to forgive him as easily as Sanzo seemed to.

Sanzo sank into one of the chairs at the rickety table, pushing aside the bottles of pills to find the ashtray. It was Gojyo's ugly, chipped black ceramic one, and it already had a few crumpled filters lying in it. Hakkai kept a stainless steel one for him, but Sanzo was disinclined to go get it. He lit a fresh smoke and let himself drift.

Sanzo had no idea what to do about Hakkai's mental problems. He was fully aware that he couldn't bully Hakkai around for long, not like he did the other two. He had no desire to, either. He already felt enough like a fucking babysitter.

He took a slow drag and tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. His thoughts shifted. Kanzeon Bosatsu was involved in whatever had happened, though he couldn't begin to guess at her role. Gojyo and Hakkai's argument and its aftermath seemed natural; it didn't have the usual inexplicable elements that he usually associated with the gods' meddling. Sanzo had never met the bodhisattva face to face, or even spoken with her. He had felt her uniquely powerful presence as a child, on a handful of occasions. At those times, his Master had been secluded in the starkly peaceful rock garden and Komyo's velvet tones had been joined by the languid voice of the goddess, their words obscured by the mud-thatched and whitewashed walls of the garden. Nothing had, as far as he knew, ever come of those meetings and his Master had never volunteered information; it had been Shuuei who had put a name to the presence that smelled like lilies…

Sanzo was pulled from his reverie when Hakkai set a bowl of ramen, a set of chopsticks, and a can of beer in front of him. Sanzo accepted the meal without thanks, grinding out the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray before digging into the food with something bordering on enthusiasm. He hadn't realized he was hungry.

Goku slid sleepily into his usual chair and grinned when Hakkai placed a bowl in front of him as well. The monkey mumbled his appreciation around a mouth already filled with noodles. Goku's gaze flicked away from his food and over to Sanzo. He hadn't really meant to fall asleep. Sanzo was his first loyalty, and he was determined to protect him, even if it meant he had to protect him from Hakkai. Only now the tension between Sanzo and Hakkai seemed to have lessened, and Hakkai's eyes no longer looked as frighteningly _dead_ as they had when he'd appeared at the edge of the clearing that morning. Goku took that as a good sign.

The meal was much quieter than usual, uncomfortably so. Goku had no one to bicker with, no invading chopsticks to fend off, and when he asked for another helping, there was enough for seconds. Each of them was secluded from the other as they ate, and even Goku didn't want to be the one to break the silence. When they had finished, Sanzo ordered Goku to pick up the dishes and Hakkai started a pot of coffee.

Sanzo reluctantly pushed away from the table and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Gojyo stirred, disturbed by the dip in the lumpy old mattress. Sanzo shook the kappa by the shoulder, "Oi."

"Hn," Gojyo replied, squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing his face into the pillow.

Annoyed, Sanzo shook him again. "Wake up, cockroach."

Shifting onto his side, Gojyo blinked up at Sanzo. The red irises were nearly eclipsed by heavy eyelids and long lashes, but Sanzo could see that they were unfocused, the pupils dilated. "Do you know where you are?"

Gojyo blinked again and glanced around. "Yeah," he said, becoming more coherent. Suddenly he sat bolt upright, almost knocking Sanzo onto the floor. Gojyo swayed and grabbed at the front of Sanzo's shirt to steady himself. "Where's Hakkai? I swear, monk, if you did anything to him I'll…"

"You'll what, faint again? Stop accusing me of shit and get your hands off me," looking disgusted, Sanzo pried at Gojyo's fingers and the kappa released him.

"I'm right here, Gojyo-san," Hakkai took a half step forward, but didn't leave the safety of the kitchenette.

Gojyo frowned. It had been months since Hakkai had attached an honorific to his name. Gojyo knew what that meant. Hakkai had retreated from him, creating an emotional distance beneath the guise of politeness. Gojyo had been demoted from friend to stranger. He sighed heavily, feeling at a loss. He was relieved to find Hakkai without any new holes in him, though it was agonizing to know that Hakkai no longer wanted anything to do with him. He deserved it, of course, but that didn't mean that the alienation hurt any less.

Sanzo vacated his place on the edge of the bed, only to be replaced by the monkey. Goku put a hand on his shoulder, drawing Gojyo's attention to the plain white mug in Goku's sun-browned hand. "I brought you some broth," he said. "I hope you didn't want any of the ramen – I ate it all."

Gojyo accepted the mug and sipped the lukewarm contents, watching over the rim as Hakkai set to drying the dishes and putting them away. "Thanks monkey," he said, ruffling the boy's messy mop of hair.

x x x

Jarm – I'm definitely hurrying, and I fully intend to finish this fic…eventually 

Ditch Gospel – One of my pet peeves when it comes to fanfiction is OOC-ness, and in my Saiyuki fanfic binges I've found that Sanzo is one of the characters that suffers most from that horrible affliction. I can't tell you how many fics I've read where Sanzo is one-dimensional and pointlessly bitchy or else he's a bleeding heart. Thanks for all your helpful comments. If you're interested in being my beta, drop me a line!

Crimson1 – I like Hakkai being out of it, too.  Insanity is delightful. I think he needs a bumper sticker for Jeep that says, "Out of my mind, back in 5 minutes"

Mitsuru Aki – Thank you!

Hatori Soma – your wish is my command!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter everyone. If you go to my blog at http/ you can read more about what caused the delay.

Also, Ditch Gospel is now my beta! So mistakes will actually be caught _before_ I post.

Living With Our Consequences

By Nekomegamichan

By dawn the storm had finally moved on. Heavy grey mist hung, knee high, above the frost-sharpened grass and curled around the trunks of trees. The sky was a pale, murky blue, painted with streaks of gold and crimson.

Sanzo had managed to steal a few hours' sleep, and though he was far from rested, he was refreshed enough to wake the others as soon as the first light touched the Eastern horizon. Hakkai fixed a simple breakfast of hot rice porridge, though once again he had Goku deliver Gojyo's portion to where the redhead sat, cross-legged, on the bed.

Gojyo picked at the white mass with his spoon, and swallowed a few mouthfuls. He was hungry on some level, but lacked his usual appetite. No one seemed to notice, even when Goku returned to get his bowl. Sanzo spent the meal behind a two day old newspaper, eating one-handed and avoiding conversation.

When his stomach was full, Sanzo left Hakkai to tidy up and changed back into his regular clothes, tossing the borrowed things into the hamper. Goku followed Sanzo's example while Gojyo, still wearing nothing but his boxers from the day before, hunted through his dresser. Goku began chattering away, anxious to fill the empty quiet. He was worried about Gojyo.

Sanzo stepped outside for his morning smoke, and when Gojyo joined him, fully clothed and shrugging into a jacket, Sanzo pointedly ignored him. From the house came the pointless ramblings of the monkey and Hakkai's occasional, generic responses as the green-eyed youkai packed for the short journey to the temple.

Sanzo would have preferred to leave Gojyo behind; the kappa would only slow them down. As it was, Gojyo looked ridiculous, his awkward-length crimson hair poking out from between the bandages wrapped around his head. Sanzo noticed, without being concerned, that Gojyo moved stiffly, carefully, keeping his head in a fixed position as he coaxed a flame from his cheap lighter and lit one of his foul-smelling Hi Lites. For a few minutes they simply stared out at the subdued landscape, each absorbed in his own thoughts; the misty air swallowing their exhalations.

To his right, Gojyo shifted; a gesture that heralded the inevitable and unwelcome conversation. "So tell me, Sanzo-sama," Gojyo began, and Sanzo was inwardly surprised to hear no trace of the mocking tone that usually accompanied his title out of the kappa's mouth. Gojyo was actually showing him respect. Sanzo was instantly suspicious. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Shut up," was Sanzo's only reply. He dropped the butt of his cigarette on the ground, the tiny embers instantly extinguished by the wet grass, and went back inside.

x x x

Hakkai felt much more himself as they set off, a fact that he contributed to the skillfully straightforward way Sanzo had handled him. He glanced over his shoulder as they left the clearing, wanting to catch one last glimpse of the ramshackle house that had somehow become his home over the last year.

It was strange how much his life had changed in so short a time. And yet it seemed that he had only come full circle. Surely the Sanbutsushin would order his death this time; a physical death, not just the spiritual execution and rebirth that they had bestowed upon him when he had been Cho Gonou. He was sure that even the Three Aspects of Buddha had limits to their mercy and patience.

Hakkai feared death, he was sane enough to realize that only hell awaited him; a just and fitting punishment for the many crimes he had committed. Sometimes it was hard for him to believe he was only twenty. His soul felt very, very old; heavy in his body and yet without the benefit of wisdom that such a soul should bring.

The fog lifted, and Goku's spirits with it. The monkey darted ahead and doubled back, jumping mud puddles and burning off the nervous energy that had accumulated from the previous day's stresses. His hair bobbed around him like a mahogany halo, and his diadem glinted in the watery winter sunlight. Goku talked about everything and nothing with childish exuberance, punctuating his random thoughts with complaints of hunger. Sanzo, ever quick to anger, hit the boy over the head with his fan whenever Goku got within range. But while the monk's aim was as accurate as ever, Sanzo seemed ever so slightly preoccupied and the strikes lacked their usual ferocity.

The monk's neck and shoulders were tense beneath the drape of his sutra. Hakkai knew that none of this was sitting well with him. Though Sanzo claimed to live by the philosophy of detachment, and pretended that anger and apathy were the only moods he was capable of, Hakkai had a strong suspicion that Sanzo was actually ruled by his emotions. The monk's hot and cold running demeanor was proof enough of that.

Gojyo walked to Hakkai's right, a habit the half-breed had picked up early in their association. Protecting him, compensating for his poor vision on that side in the subtle, thoughtful way that Gojyo had. Hakkai felt a pang in his shriveled heart. With every step he was getting closer and closer to his fate, and he still had no idea how to approach Gojyo when the man wouldn't even look at him.

Hakkai was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn't see Gojyo stumble. Two swift strides and he was at the redhead's side, one hand darting out to grasp Gojyo's elbow, steadying him. Gojyo quickly regained his balance and snatched his arm back, his eyes finally meeting Hakkai's. And what Hakkai saw there made his breath freeze in his chest.

Grief.

Grief, and lurking behind it - fear.

The tableau was broken when a loop of bandage came loose, sliding down to obscure Gojyo's left eye. "Gojyo-san, I…" Hakkai said, quietly, not sure what he meant to say or what he expected to hear in return. Passing a hand over the side of his face, Gojyo tugged the offending strip of white cloth back onto his head. He looked away, swallowing hard, and Hakkai could see he was shaking, face ashen beneath the bronze tan so that the twin scars stood out vividly.

Inside, Gojyo was reeling, and he knew it wasn't just the jolt to his injured brain that was making him dizzy and nauseous. Though Hakkai hadn't even tried to hit him, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The way Hakkai had looked at him…there had been something in the other man's face that Gojyo couldn't identify. "Thanks," he muttered and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, before starting after Sanzo.

Sanzo had stopped a few meters ahead and stood, turned halfway, watching and waiting almost expectantly, as if hoping to learn something useful from the exchange. But when Gojyo drew level with him, Sanzo gave an almost inaudible grunt and continued down the path. Goku danced back into view, reappearing from around a bend in the road, completely oblivious.

Hakkai stayed a pace behind, studying Gojyo's back as he walked. He had expected resentment, even hate, but Hakkai had been caught completely off guard by the raw emotion that burned in Gojyo's red eyes. It was the same expression he saw in his own eyes on the rare occasions he bothered with mirrors. It was the look of a man who had lost everything he ever cared about.

Hakkai barely choked back the moan that was crawling up his throat. His gentle, redheaded savior had become his victim. _Like you became Kanan's,_ a tiny, insidious voice insisted. Hakkai's fists clenched. Although it would likely be the last thing he ever did, he was determined to secure Gojyo's forgiveness. Suddenly, living seemed more important than it had in a long time.

x x x

It was still early when they hit town. It had taken nearly twice as long as normal to walk the five kilometers from Gojyo's shack, and although Sanzo was aware of the annoying knot of anxiousness that had settled in his gut, he refused to acknowledge its cause. He was only doing his job, and once it was done and over with then he was going to go the fuck home, take a hot bath, and forget Hakkai and Gojyo ever even existed. He steadfastly refused to light the lone cigarette that rattled in the pack in his robe pocket just to soothe nerves that didn't need soothing. Instead, he touched the warm metal of the Smith & Wesson at his hip.

The town was full of activity. The smells of cooking food and rain-dampened urban life mingled distastefully in the air trapped between the buildings, a sharp contrast from the freshness of the countryside. On the rooftops, limiter-wearing youkai labored alongside the humans, hammering on shingles blown loose by the storm and creating the kind of idyllic scene that Tougenkyo prided itself on. It made Sanzo want to snort. The so-called equality was superficial at best, dangerously unstable at worst. Distrust and bias ran rampant, and the filth and flea-infested bar district where Gojyo gambled was notorious for drunken brawls and loose women of both races.

Sanzo held a generally low opinion of people, be they human or youkai. He expected them to make mistakes. That was why he was rarely disappointed. Sanzo cast a sidelong glance at Hakkai and lit his last cigarette.

No one paid any attention to the four familiar figures wading down the sloppy streets. Sanzo stopped when they arrived at the wide, grassy square that held the town's marketplace. He turned to Gojyo, "I'm only going to ask you this once, kappa. Do you want to see a doctor?"

"M'fine," Gojyo replied around the filter dangling between his lips.

"Maybe you should, Gojyo-san," Hakkai interjected. He didn't like the way Gojyo swayed almost imperceptibly, and the deep purple bruises that peeked above the collar of his jacket were like a testament to abuse; Hakkai cringed inwardly, privately ashamed.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Let the idiot do what he wants, Hakkai," Sanzo said, cutting off any further protest from Hakkai. "Goku, go get me a fresh pack of cigarettes and a newspaper. And don't screw around, we're not staying," he added, pressing the Three Aspects' gold card into Goku's outstretched hand.

"But Sanzo! Can't we at least get noodles at Wo-san's cart? I'm starving and Wo makes the best – ow! What didya hit me for, Sanzo?" Goku rubbed his head and stared balefully up at his keeper.

"You ate two hours ago. Now hurry the hell up," Sanzo pointed in the direction of the general store that stood on the North edge of the square. Finishing his smoke, he tossed the butt into a convenient public ashtray filled with damp sand.

"Yeah, yeah," Goku grumbled, jogging off.

Gojyo plopped himself down on a nearby park bench, leaning with one arm thrown over the back. His heart thumped away in his chest, directing the rhythm of the throbbing in his skull.

Still 'Gojyo-san.' He was still 'Gojyo-san.' Shit. He should have done what Hakkai wanted on the off chance that it would weasel him back into the green eyed man's good graces. But it was too late for that. It was too late for a lot of things now. His hand stole up to trace the twin scars on his cheek. He hardly ever touched them, and if a girl did it was an instant deal-breaker.

He almost laughed. It had been months since he'd bedded a girl. Not that he had any lack of willing partners, there had been the occasional storeroom or back alley quickie, but it wasn't the same. Somehow it seemed wrong to spend the night in town when it meant Hakkai was stuck at home, waiting up and keeping a meal warm for him.

Hakkai always had food ready for him when he got home. Hakkai worked most days, keeping written records for the merchants and tutoring kids when parents had the time to spare them from family businesses. His gambling had become less a way to survive and more a way to supplement Hakkai's steady income.

Gojyo rubbed his forehead and sighed. There was a reason why he'd never bothered to shack up with anyone before.

Hakkai cast a glance over his shoulder at Gojyo before he spoke, voice low. "Sanzo," he ventured. "I know I'm in no position to be making requests, but I've only once asked you for a favor…"

"Let's keep it that way."

Hakkai flashed a small smile and counseled himself to patience. "I need some time; just a few days to make things right." He sighed, knowing he'd been dealt a loosing hand but hoping that it would be enough to keep him in the game. "Please, Sanzo."

"Even if I wanted to, I can't, and you know it," Sanzo replied blandly. "My coming out here wasn't exactly a vacation."

Before Hakkai could say anything more, Goku returned, carrying a blue and white pack of smokes and a folded newspaper. Sanzo accepted the newspaper, but took one look at the cigarettes and tossed them back to Goku. "Those aren't my brand."

"Yeah, they were out. The shopkeeper said that the river's flooded and the bridge is washed out, so he won't be getting any more for at least a couple of days," Goku broke into a grin. "So does that mean we can go get something to eat?"

Sanzo redirected his glare to Hakkai, his purple eyes sharp. Hakkai only smiled, "It seems I still only have one favor on my record."

x x x

In Heaven, Kanzeon stretched long legs and sipped at her wine. "That's what you think, Tenpou. After all I've done for you, I own all your mortal asses," she drawled, chuckling.

"You're the one who put them in this predicament, Bosatsu-sama," Jiroushin pointed out dryly.

"Oh, don't spoil my fun," the bodhisattva pouted. "Besides, it's good for them."

Jiroushin only rolled his eyes, well accustomed to his master's eccentricities, and went off in search of a cup of tea.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Well, everyone - here it is, the long-awaited (by some) sixth chapter of "Consequences." Many thanks to the lovely Ditch Gospel for her help; I couldn't have made it this far without her. Please enjoy!

Living With Our Consequences

By NekoMegami-chan

Chapter 6

Sanzo was both irritated and privately relieved that their progress had been impeded. While he knew that the delay was only prolonging the inevitable, he had resented the way events had been moving and the holdup caused by the flooded bridge had afforded him time to stop, think, and possibly even get the situation under some semblance of control. It also meant that Hakkai now had both the opportunity to reconcile with the cockroach and perhaps regain his sense of self before he had to be brought before the Three Aspects.

However, those thoughts were almost completely overshadowed by how pissed off Sanzo was that he was facing two to three days without his own brand of cigarettes.

"Damn it," Sanzo muttered quietly to himself. Then, "Yes, fine. You can get some noodles from Wo, but I don't want to hear you complain about how hungry you are for the rest of the day, got it?"

"No problem Sanzo!" Goku exclaimed, bounding across the sodden market to the section that held the food carts, intent on ordering before Sanzo could dictate just how much he could have. The unwanted off-brand pack of cigarettes was crushed, forgotten in one hand.

Gojyo sighed and levered himself to his feet, only to be assaulted by a wave of dizziness as his head loudly protested the change in altitude. He closed his eyes against the feeling and took in a deep breath before starting after the monkey.

Hakkai fell into step beside him, Sanzo trailing half a stride behind. "Sanzo," Hakkai ventured, "Since we're stuck here, perhaps I ought to go and secure us a couple of rooms at the inn," _so I can put Gojyo back in bed before he falls over,_ was the unvoiced implication.

"We'll all go," Sanzo said, and the hard look in his violet eyes as they met Hakkai's was clear, _I don't trust you right now, and I'm sure as hell not going to let you out of my sight. _

**x x x**

After Goku had been satiated, Sanzo steered them towards one of the nicer hotels in town. Even though the place looked fairly well taken care of, there were still buckets and pans in various places around the building to catch water from the leaks in the roof. Given how much damage the storm had done just from the sheer amount of water it had dropped, Sanzo was surprised that Gojyo and Hakkai's place was still standing – or he would have been surprised if it hadn't been for the scent of lilies that even now seemed to linger just beyond his physical senses. Once again he wondered just what the Bodhisattva was up to.

Sanzo produced his gold card once again, paid for two rooms, and they trekked upstairs. Gojyo all but collapsed onto the closest bed, though he tried to make it seem as though he was being deliberately dramatic, "This one's mine," he said, "I don't like to sleep near the window."

Usually Goku would have fought with Gojyo over his choice just because it was amusing to argue with the cockroach, but instead he tossed his backpack on the other bed before flopping down next to it. Goku turned his head and looked over at Gojyo, who had pulled himself up to sit with his back to the headboard. "You okay?" Goku asked.

The half-youkai took his time lighting a fresh cigarette before he answered. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Liar," Goku retorted, but he left it alone.

x x x

They ate early, in the inn's dining room along with a handful of other patrons. The bar that ran along the entire south wall was closed due to a string of leaks over the counter, and the sound of water plunking into beer pitchers and rusty old kegs echoed through the room.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Sanzo was even grumpier than usual, though he indulged in a copious amount of beer. Goku noticed his right hand clenched and unclenched whenever it was empty, and twice he started to reach into the front of his robe where his pack of Marlboros was usually kept. The normally observant Hakkai didn't even notice; he was quiet and withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts. Goku could see that although Hakkai was preoccupied, the other youkai seemed to be more and more himself. The frightening aura of madness that had been wrapped around the dark-haired man like a death shroud had disappeared, leaving Hakkai looking pale and vulnerable, but relatively sane.

Gojyo was conspicuously absent from the meal, though no one mentioned it.

After the dishes had been cleared away, Sanzo retreated behind his newspaper, effectively dismissing the other two. Hakkai removed his monocle and tucked the little circle of glass into a shirt pocket. It seemed to Goku that Hakkai might have wanted to say something, and he felt like shouting for the older man to just spit it out. Instead, Goku looked from one to the other then quietly excused himself, headed for the public bathhouse down the street.

Usually he would have gone to get a change of clothes and his toiletry bag from the room, but the coins in his pocket would be enough to pay for his bath and a bar of soap, and his clothes weren't really _that _dirty. He really just needed time to think, time away from the others. That realization was enough to stop Goku in his tracks; it was the first time he could remember not wanting to be with his friends.

He started walking again, his mind racing. With everything that had been going on the past couple of days, Goku had felt out of place, useless. No one had bothered to explain things to him, and he was afraid to ask, not because he feared being hit over the head and called a monkey, but because he feared what the answer might be. Back at the cabin he'd thought that Sanzo would be able to fix things like he usually did, with a few cynical comments and couple rounds of ammunition, and that afterwards they'd all have a good laugh and go out for meat buns and beer. But everything was all wrong, and there didn't seem to be anything anyone could do about it.

Goku knew that Hakkai was in big trouble. He'd come to like the quiet, patient man over the past year, and he didn't want the gods that lived in the shine at the top of the temple to do anything bad to him for roughing up the kappa. Goku knew first hand that Gojyo could be pretty damn annoying and even deserved to be hit now and then, but Gojyo had been beaten within an inch of his life, and that just didn't sit well with Goku.

Goku could tell that things weren't sitting well with Sanzo, either. _And that_ he thought as he pushed open the double doors of the bathhouse _is what worries me the most_.

x x x

After Goku left, Sanzo tucked his glasses back into his sleeve and messily refolded his paper. He left the paper, along with a tip for their waitress, on the table before returning to their rented rooms, Hakkai trailing in his wake. He caught a glance of the youkai in his peripheral vision as they turned the corner at the top of the stairs, hoping to gain some new insight, but Hakkai was like a closed book.

As Sanzo let them in, the strange feeling of resentment he had felt back at the cottage dragged at him again; he had been so damn sure that Hakkai would be the one person who wouldn't cause him trouble, wouldn't require anything of him, least of all his protection. Sanzo privately cursed himself ten times a fool.

His body screaming for a cigarette, Sanzo paced over to the narrow window. The night air was cold and fresh, and when he slid back the glass pane it flooded the room, causing the hem of his robes to flutter, the threadbare silk rustling dryly. Over the sound of the breeze through the pine needles came the faint noises of the bars and brothels two streets over. Apparently the damage the storm had caused hadn't been significant enough to shut down the shadier parts of town.

Sanzo heard Hakkai behind him as the green-eyed man came to join him at the window. Both of them stared at the sliver of white moon that peeked out from behind a break in the dark clouds choking the twilight sky. Finally, Hakkai spoke, "Sanzo. . ."

"Goku's gone to the bathhouse," Sanzo interrupted calmly, his voice low. "Knowing the monkey, he'll be gone at least an hour. They'll probably have to kick him out at closing time."

"Aa," Hakkai agreed cautiously.

"And I'm not in the mood for company," Sanzo added, inclining his head just enough that he could make eye contact. Hakkai knew that he had just been given both tacit permission to go and speak with Gojyo, and a clear warning. Sanzo was not one to play games, and Hakkai understood that there could be no turning back if he crossed the line again. His actions this night would determine weather Sanzo would ever trust him again, or simply take the gods' justice into his own hands.

"Thank you," Hakkai said quietly as he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

**x x x **

Gojyo didn't go down to dinner with the monkey; he had too much on his mind and the mild nausea that had plagued him all day was effectively killing any appetite he might otherwise have had.

He sighed and rubbed out the butt end of his cigarette in the ashtray on the little lamp stand at his elbow. Hakkai had had a (meticulously polite) fit the first time he'd seen Gojyo smoke in bed; and although it had resulted in him being made to smoke outside for a week, the memory was enough to bring a smile to his lips for a moment before the current situation weighed down on him again.

"Fuck it," he swore, rubbing his face and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, fighting back against the ache in his head. He was still "Gojyo-san." Hakkai had hardly said ten words to him all day, and Gojyo was still the recipient of that damn honorific. Gojyo knew Hakkai was distancing himself out of a sense of misplaced guilt, but Hakkai was the smartest person he'd ever met, and it confounded Gojyo as to why Hakkai insisted on taking responsibility for sins that really didn't belong to him.

Gojyo had consciously touched on a sore spot when he'd criticized Kanan, especially on such a painful anniversary. _Kanan_. Gojyo hated that woman, hated her as much as he had ever hated anyone, and they had never even met. He hated her for her selfishness, for throwing away the sacrifices Cho Gonou had made, and for destroying the person Hakkai was now just as effectively as she had destroyed the man he had been. But most of all, Gojyo hated her for not being strong enough to live – not even for Hakkai or her innocent, unborn half-breed child.

Even after all she had done, Gojyo at least understood Hakkai's devotion to her, because if there was anything Gojyo understood, it was how it felt to be left. Kanan had been all that he'd had, and then she'd chosen to leave him by taking the easy way out. He had thought that if he could have just make Hakkai _see_. . .

Now he realized that it had been wrong of him to force those thoughts on Hakkai, and it was his fault that Hakkai's ass was on the line. Disgusted with himself for hiding in the damn hotel room all this time, pissed at himself for not being a man and just owning up to what he'd done, Gojyo steeled his resolve and stood, reaching for the doorknob. But just as his fingers touched the brass, a courteous knock came from the other side of the thin wooden door. Hakkai's knock.

**x x x**

The Goddess of Mercy lounged back on her throne, legs crossed and her chin in her hand, watching events unfold from her divine vantage point. So far, everything had gone as expected. Konzen really was entirely too predictable; five hundred years, reincarnation and a mortal body had done little to change him. Or any of the others, really.

Suddenly she bolted upright, moving to perch on the edge as she stared intently into the depths of the lily pond. The bodhisattva smiled and grabbed her adjutant by the front of his collar, pulling Jiroushin close, "This is it! Now things are going to get interesting," she smirked.

Jiroushin adopted a wry expression, "Why is it that whenever you say that, mortals' lives hang in the balance?" he muttered under his breath.

The goddess' eyes narrowed and she slowly turned her head to look at her second in command, "What was that?"

"Begging your pardon, Master, but I didn't say a thing," Jiroushin replied, managing to keep a straight face.

The goddess grunted and let it slide. Down in the real world, a door had been opened.

**x x x **

Gojyo stood face to face with Hakkai. Wine red met forest green. Two voices spoke without hesitation:

"I'm sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

Living With Our Consequences

By NekoMegami-chan

Chapter 7

Goku washed, grabbed his towel, and headed into the men's bath. Steam hung thickly in the air and slicked the clean white tile. Two old men lounged in the huge circular wooden tub, sharing a flask of sake, their faces flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the bath. The one closest to Goku raised a hand in greeting as he lowered himself into the water. Goku noticed that the man who had waved was wearing a thick silver armband; a youkai.

"Hope you don't mind sharing with a couple'a old guys," the other one said, leaning forward to look past his friend at Goku. His rounded ears and the lack of any conspicuous jewelry marked him as human.

"No, of course not. I'm Goku," Goku introduced himself, without his usual smile.

"I'm Rong," said the youkai, "And this wrinkly bastard is Lok; nice to meet you Goku."

Lok squinted and regarded Goku carefully. "What gives, kid? Why the long face?"

"Well, I . . ." Goku paused, unsure how much he should say. He didn't know these guys and even if he did, he didn't think there was anything they could say to help him. "It's nothing," he finished lamely.

"Fine, be that way," Rong grumped, taking a swig from the sake bottle.

Lok poked Rong in the ribs as he swallowed, almost making the youkai choke. "Oh, shut up. The kid's being smart – for all he knows we're perverts or something." Then to Goku he said, "We're _not_, by the way."

"You're human, I'm almost a hundred years old, and judging from the hefty piece of hardware on his head he could easily kick both our asses. Our young friend has nothing to worry about," Rong retorted.

Goku couldn't suppress a chuckle, and he felt his mood lift. These elders seemed nice enough; they didn't know him, and he was reasonably sure they didn't know his friends. It was a big town, and so long as he didn't mention anyone by name, especially not Sanzo, maybe it would be good to get the benefit of their wisdom after all.

"Alright," gathering his thoughts, Goku began, "I have three best friends," he confided. "Two of them had a fight, and one of them beat the other one up pretty badly. At first I wasn't sure whose fault it was, because my friend who got hurt has a big mouth and starts a lot of shit, but my other friend is a lot stronger and he was the one who lost control. So now I think they're both responsible."

"That's usually the case," Rong said. "It takes two to fight."

Lok nodded in agreement, quoting an ancient proverb, "Yes, but he who strikes the first blow admits he's lost the argument."

Goku thought about that for a long moment, letting the meaning of what Lok had said sink in before he continued. "The problem now is that they haven't said ten words to each other since the fight. I know they both feel really bad about it, but I don't think they know what to do. Whenever they have an argument, it seems like they just stop talking until they cool off, and then suddenly everything's okay again. I just don't think it's gonna work that way this time."

"And to make matters worse, my other friend got pulled in to clean up the mess, and he's really unhappy about it. He wouldn't ever admit it, but I think he feels a little betrayed by everything, because he went out of his way to help them awhile back, and the fight kinda ruined things."

Goku didn't want to mention that Hakkai's life was might be on the line; though, he didn't really think that Sanzo would let the Sanbutushin kill Hakkai, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't banish him to the far reaches of Togenkyo or seal him, or have his memories locked away like Goku's had been. No, Goku had faith in Sanzo's ability to dissuade the floating heads from doing anything _too_ drastic.

"Wow, that sucks," Rong said, breaking into the moment of silence that followed Goku's explanation. He scratched thoughtfully at the grey stubble that shaded his chin but offered no further insight or advice.

Lok had listened to Goku with an attentive, serious expression, and now he settled back against the side of the tub. "It seems to me," he said, after a short pause, "that there isn't much you can do except to tell them what you told us. That is to say, you should calmly tell your friends how their behavior is affecting you and each other, then step back and wait for them to sort it all out."

"What the hell kinda advice is _that_, Lok?" Rong asked, giving his old friend a skeptical sideways glance. "Listen, kid; all you gotta do is just give 'em all a good kick in the ass and tell them to get over themselves. If a friendship's worth keeping then every once in awhile you just gotta have it out and let it go. Right?"

"Is that your answer to everything?" Lok blurted out indignantly. "There _are_ problems which can't be solved by kicking the other guy in the ass, you know!"

Rong chuckled, "Works with you, doesn't it?" The youkai ducked to avoid the hand that came up to smack him in the back of the head, but only succeeded in sloshing sake down his front.

Goku had the impression that his presence had been momentarily forgotten, and used the chance to take his leave. He stood up and wrapped his towel around his waist before climbing out of the tub. "Thanks for the advise," he said, genuinely grateful.

"Glad we could be of help," Lok replied. They exchanged good-nights and then Goku slipped back into the changing room, pulling his clothes from the little cubby where he'd left them.

The old men had given him a lot to think about. Sanzo he could talk to, Goku knew. Sanzo often grumbled that he didn't want to hear anything the others had to say, but the fact of the matter was that Sanzo was willing to listen more often than not, provided the person talking actually had something worthwhile to say. Hakkai was usually a ready ear, but in this particular situation, Goku thought that giving both Hakkai and Gojyo a taste of Rong's brand of medicine might be in order. And though Goku was looking forward to bringing about Gojyo's healing via his foot to the redhead's backside, he dutifully reminded himself to go easy on the kappa in his injured state.

Plan in mind, Goku finished dressing and left the bathhouse, stepping into the cold evening air with a new sense of purpose.

x x x

"I'm sorry."

The sound of their voices faded into nothingness; it was as if the entire world had coalesced into the space between their bodies and now waited, hushed and expectant.

Hakkai's mind was a riot of anticipation and apprehension. Gojyo had asked _his_ forgiveness! Hakkai couldn't seem to form the words to tell Gojyo that there was no need for that. He couldn't even explain himself; the carefully constructed apologies he'd rehearsed in his mind remained unspoken, forgotten. Instead, he was standing in the doorway, staring mutely at the man he had so terribly wronged. The man who had picked a dying stranger up off a muddy nighttime road, taken that stranger into his own house and nursed him back to health, all without ever asking for so much as a name. But Gojyo's sacrifices hadn't stopped there. He'd risked himself to protect a criminal from capture, mourned Cho Gonou, and even accepted Hakkai right back into his home and his life. And yet Hakkai had been willing to throw it all away in a misguided attempt to assuage his pain and guilt over a dead woman. . .

Gojyo watched Hakkai struggle with himself until he couldn't stand it any more. He'd never been all that good at giving comfort, and after his most recent monumental failure, he wasn't exactly confident in his ability to be helpful. But Hakkai carried the weight of his past on his shoulders, and Gojyo knew that burden would crush him if he didn't do something soon.

Gojyo reached out, pulled Hakkai into the room and kicked the door shut behind them. He slung an arm companionably over his friend's shoulders, leaning into him for physical support in a way that was only half-feigned. "Everything's fine, Hakkai," he said quietly, earnestly.

Hakkai's eyes widened, his brain rebelling against Gojyo's words even as his body instinctively shifted to support Gojyo's weight. There was no way it could be that simple. He didn't deserve for it to be that easy, not after everything that had happened, after what he'd done. "Gojyo. . ."

"Its fine, Hakkai," Gojyo repeated. "Stop worrying about stupid shit, alright? You and me, we're cool, got it?"

Reluctantly, cautiously, Hakkai willed himself to believe it was true. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Seemingly satisfied, Gojyo smiled, causing the scars on his to cheek crinkle up beneath his eye. "Just promise me something," Gojyo added, his expression turning serious once again.

"Anything," Hakkai answered resolutely, eager to atone in any way possible.

"Don't ever call me 'san' again. Makes me feel like some goddamn stranger." Silently, Gojyo made his own vow to never say another word against Kannan for as long as he lived. Let Hakkai remember her however the hell he wanted; it was really none of his damn business anyway.

"Of course, Gojyo," Hakkai felt relief slowly begin to overtake him. He released a shaky breath; the exhalation like an exorcism, casting out some measure of the demons that haunted him.

"That's more like it," Gojyo said. "Now, I don't suppose you brought any beer?"

x x x

Sanzo rolled up the Maten sutra and placed the sacred scroll next to his Smith & Wesson on the nightstand, keeping them within easy reach. His boots, robe, and shirt were tossed in a messy pile on a chair, leaving him clad in only a faded pair of jeans with a hole in one knee. .

He settled on the bed nearest the window and leaned back to rest his head against the wall. Judging from the lack of shouting, banging, or other audible indication of violence in the next room, Sanzo assumed that Hakkai had managed to refrain from murdering the kappa. Of course, he was reasonably certain that Hakkai knew how to kill a man silently; Sanzo could think of seven ways to do so just off the top of his head, but given what he knew of the man that just didn't seem like Hakkai's style.

Allowing his eyes to slide shut, Sanzo let his mind drift. Experience and his own somewhat paranoid nature meant that he remained aware of his surroundings, ready to defend himself should the need arise. He was tired and in desperate need of a cigarette; the night was still young and he knew he could always go across the street to the convenience store on the corner to get a pack, but Sanzo stubbornly decided that he'd rather go without than smoke anything other than his Marlboro Reds.

Sleeping wasn't an option either, at least not until Goku got back from the bathhouse – the monkey was sure to come barging in to announce his return. Even though Goku was loud, obnoxious, and insatiable, at least he was constant; a trait Sanzo refused to acknowledge, let alone appreciate.

Where the hell _was_ that stupid monkey anyway?

"As a matter of fact, yes, and I'll get it in just a moment," Hakkai said in response to Gojyo's query for alcohol. "But you missed dinner, and you barely even touched breakfast or lunch. Aren't you hungry?"

Gojyo disengaged himself from Hakkai and dropped into one of the two chairs crowding the rickety old hotel table. His eyes squeezed shut as he ran a hand through his messy hair, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed over the wound. "Not really." He lit a fresh cigarette. Gojyo felt drained, physically and psychologically. Even so, he wasn't ready to climb back into bed just yet. Hakkai was here, they'd managed to make up and play nice and there was no way in hell he was going to waste another minute when their immediate future so uncertain.

"That's a first," quipped Hakkai, crossing the small room to open a window. Usually he would have chided Gojyo for having lit up without first giving the smoke some way to escape the room, but not tonight. The world beyond the window was cool and quiet, the air damp and heavy with the scent of the rain-soaked town.

He glanced back at Gojyo and a surge of fresh guilt assaulted him. In spite of the strength of his words, it was obvious that the redhead was still weakened and hurting, and the long walk earlier in the day, coupled with the lack of food, had done little to improve his condition. Even his normally vibrant _chi _appeared faded, the color of Gojyo's life-force somehow missing its usual intensity; making Hakkai wonder if his friend had developed a fever.

Turning away from the window, Hakkai retrieved a six pack of beer from the hallway and seated himself opposite Gojyo before setting his peace offering on the table between them. Hakkai knew he should probably try to manipulate Gojyo into at least eating some soup or rice, and that beer wasn't exactly the best thing to be splashing over the redhead's concussion and a possible fever, but he still felt too tenuous in their newly restored friendship to attempt coercing the other man into doing something he didn't want to do. So instead, Hakkai said, "In that case, if you're not too tired, shall we play cards?"

"So long as I can deal," Gojyo replied with a lazy smile, teasing, though he pulled the tab on his first can. "Because I still think you cheat. No one's luck is that good."

"If you say so, Gojyo," Hakkai returned, nonchalant. The truth was that he didn't cheat (at least, not usually), but it was still better to leave the others guessing.

Gojyo pulled a battered pack out of his jacket pocked, shuffled, and dealt.

Goku hurried back to the inn, sticking to the buildings in order to avoid the muddy streets. It was fully dark now; the only light issuing from the windows of homes, and as he neared the inn, the gambling houses and bars where Gojyo usually played cards, picked up cheap beer and cheaper women. For what seemed like the millionth time, Goku wondered why that all appealed to the cockroach anyway, and even more confusingly, why Hakkai not only tolerated it, but even went along when he wasn't working.

Goku mentally shrugged as he passed the last of the bars. Gojyo and Hakkai were just like that; a strange couple of guys, but somehow just right together; similar to the way he and Sanzo just _fit_. He couldn't explain it, but it was there nonetheless. And that was exactly why Goku knew he had to do his best to help the dumb kappa and Hakkai resolve their differences and get back to being friends.

Squaring his shoulders, Goku entered the inn, ran up the stairs two at a time, shouting and ready to kick some ass, even if it was only figuratively. "Gojyo! I'm tired of things being weird between all of us, so we're gonna fix it right …" He threw open the door to Gojyo's room only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

Gojyo and Hakkai were seated at the little table. Each of them was holding a hand of cards and they'd been interrupted mid-laugh by Goku's unexpected entrance.

Hakkai was the first to recover, though there was still the hint of a smile in his voice when he spoke. "Is something the matter, Goku?"

"Uh, no. I mean, never mind. I-ah, it looks like you guys already worked out your differences…so, I'm just gonna….share a room with Sanzo." Goku stammered, ducking back out of the room. "Goodnight!" he added before the latch clicked back into place.

There was a brief moment where neither Hakkai nor Gojyo moved or spoke, and then suddenly they were both laughing again; Gojyo in his loud, heartfelt way, and Hakkai with his politely quiet chuckle.

"What the hell was _that_ about?" Gojyo wondered aloud. "And did you see the look on his face?"

"Somehow I don't think he quite expected to find us being amiable again." Hakkai sipped his beer to temper his amusement.

"Seems that way," Gojyo said, laying down his cards to reveal two pair, "Kings high."

"Ah, well played. But I'm afraid I win again. Four of a kind, aces."

Gojyo only groaned.

x x x

Confused by yet another unexpected turn of events, Goku moved down the hall to Sanzo's room. He'd probably get called a stupid monkey for asking but that mattered less than finding out what had happened in the time he'd been gone. Goku knocked and Sanzo's voice drifted through the barrier of the door. "What?"

"Can I come in?" Goku called back.

"'Che. Do what you want."

Goku let himself in. The only light came from the moon outside, giving the room a faint blue-silver cast, making him feel as if he were under water. "Sanzo," he started.

"If it's about the two idiots in the next room, I don't want to hear it," the blonde cut him off. "The walls are thin and I've been forced to listen to them enough as it is. And seeing as how no one's dead, I'm not interested."

Goku realized that Sanzo was just pleased that Gojyo and Hakkai had managed to work out their differences. "Sure thing, Sanzo."

Sanzo clicked on the light beside the bed and opened up his newspaper, handing Goku the comics section even as the scent of lilies finally faded into the night.

x x x

A/N: Well, that's it for this chapter. Which is actually the longest one I've written for this fic so far (over 3,000 words). However, I felt I owed it to everyone in compensation for how long it took me to post this.

I still have two more chapters planned for this story, and I'm sketching out what may become a short epilogue. The last two chapters are going to be a lot of action, and I look forward to writing it – I think it's going to be pretty exciting.

As always, thanks so much for reading and please let me know what you think.


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